House's Secret
by Mark Horne
Summary: When House reveals a deep secret at a surprise birthday party, his team finds their world turned upside down. Will they survive this revelation?
1. Surprise

**A/N** I don't own any of the characters present. I'll update as much as I can, hopefully more than my other poor stories.

ooo

Gregory House, MD, approached the glass door of his office with suspicion. Though he was over an hour late arriving, the lights were off, and the shades pulled shut. His team should have been there, complaining about his tardiness, and attempting to make small talk. Perhaps Chase was hitting on Cameron, or on Foreman, who was probably sulking about and drinking coffee. House gripped his cane a little tighter as he approached the door. It was, disconcertingly, unlocked.

He opened the door, stepped into the room, and was blinded as the lights suddenly shot on.

"SURPRISE!" came a cry from a gaggle of voices. "Happy Birthday House!"

House squeezed his eyes shut and tried to suck back his disdain. Everyone was there – his team, Wilson, and Cuddy, who was wearing a modest, but obviously expensive sweater. Wilson and Chase clapped him on opposite shoulders and grinned like PCP addicts beginning a new high.

Everyone, even Foreman, was all smiles and cheeriness. Nestled on his desk in a circle of presents was an enormous cake with "Happy Birthday!" scrawled on it in blue icing.

"A pity," House said. "I was hoping for one of the big ones, and that Cuddy would jump out of it."

Cuddy blushed and rolled her eyes. "I'm saving that one for Wilson," she said in a seductive voice, and pulled her lover to her with his lapels. They embarked on a deep, lingering kiss, and House couldn't help but notice the sparkle of the engagement ring on her finger. The team all stared up at the ceiling, and Cameron gagged.

After a long minute of this House stomped his cane into the ground and yelled, "Enough!"

Wilson and Cuddy both snapped out of their embrace, and looked at him in a befuddled manner.

"I don't understand why the lot of you continue to thrust these sentimental idiocies upon me. In case you didn't notice, there is a big blue folder sitting on my chair. Dying patient anyone?"

Foreman groaned, Chase shook his head, but Wilson confronted him. "You're just upset that we're celebrating your mortality. I think a piece of cake will make you feel better."

House rolled his eyes. They would continue on with this farce for as long as he allowed it. Time was running short. Perhaps this was the moment to end the charade he had been living for so long.

"You idiot!" roared House. "There's nothing to celebrate! And for someone who's known me as long as you have, I thought you would have picked up on this. I'm not upset about my mortality, because I have none!"

The five stared at him with looks of varying confusion on their faces. Foreman was the first to react. "Are you sure you're feeling ok? Had something besides Viacadin, maybe this morning?"

"No," he said and paused for a long moment. "Before you begin diagnosing what appears to you to be a classic case of insanity, I would like you to consider that there is some level of truth to what I'm saying."

"So you're immortal?" ventured Wilson hesitantly. He then began to chuckle. "So you're God now? You've been full of yourself but this – "

House cut him off with a wave. "You're wrong on two points. One, it's not now, it always has been, and two, not _the God_, just a god. And I have to admit that it feels good to get how much I'm annoyed by your Judo-Christian monotheistic system. There is clearly more going on in your world that can be accounted for by just one god."

They all burst out laughing, except for Cameron who just stared at him. Chase was actually rolling on the ground in tears. "I guess I'd better get you a raise," said Cuddy between feminine chuckles.

"So which god are you?" Cameron asked.

"It's really not that difficult to figure out," House said with a yawn.

Wilson and Foreman were now leaning on each other, laughing hysterically.

"You're Apollo! He was the Greek god of medicine!" Cameron cried out.

"Of course. Now that that's been deciphered, can we please clear this mess up and get back to our jobs?"

"You've bloody lost your marbles," said Chase who was now lying still, with his head propped up on his hand. "If you're a god, why don't you prove it?"

"My omnipresent knowledge of all medicine doesn't do it? Have you noticed that I never look anything up, and I know the results of your tests before I run them? How about that I'm a master pianist, even though I never practice and have never been formerly trained? Or that I know twelve different languages fluently?"

"Apollo is the god of art and music," said Cameron quietly.

"That's two gold stars for Cameron, give her a round of applause," sneered House.

"Yeah, actually, that isn't good enough," said Chase, standing up. "I think you're having a mental breakdown, and we'd better sedate you."

"Ugh. This is so pedestrian. Humans have utterly no respect for their betters. Fine, if you want proof …" House snapped his fingers and the room was filled with a blinding light. When if faded, Cuddy was nude and standing in a pile of ashes.

"HOUSE!" she shrieked and tried to cover herself. Wilson quickly wrapped his lab coat around her. "How, how did you do that?"

He rolled his eyes for what seemed like the millionth time. "As god of the sun, I have control over light and heat. I want you all to notice that Dr. Cuddy isn't suffering from the third degree burns a person usually gets when exposed to heat strong enough to reduce clothing to ashes. And also, I should have done that a long time ago. Your funbags are as amazing as they've ever been, and being swollen from your hormone treatments have done great things."

"HOUSE!" Cuddy shrieked again.

"I'm just glad it wasn't me," Cameron said.

"The next time you get self-righteous on me, it just might," he said with a wink. "Now, can we get back to work?"

"You've got to give us more than that. If you're a god, why are you here in the first place? And why can't you fix your leg?" asked Chase in his usual sniveling voice.

"I figured you would need more convincing than everyone else God-boy. But those questions are both related. I'm here because I'm in a competition with Hades, and the leg injury was his way of trying to 'trip me up'. He's always been an obnoxious bastard," House muttered.

"What competition are you in?" asked Cameron, her head tilted slightly as she does when asking a question. House was glad she wasn't wearing those stupid glasses and hadn't yet dyed her hair blonde, though he suspected that might be coming.

"I'm trying to solve death, and he's trying to stop me. And the lot of you are helping him by making me participate in this irrelevant ceremony. Oh Chase, and before you ask another obvious question, I can't just fix my leg with my godlike powers. Wounds given by the gods are a lot harder to heal. Not like gunshot wounds. I should have expected that you morons wouldn't catch on to my immortality when I survived the shooting. I was very disappointed in all of you. Oh yes, and the Vicadin, that really does help my pain, and it is beyond anything you mortals could comprehend."

"Wait, wait, wait. Ok, sure you can do some parlor tricks, and you know a lot of stuff, but why would a god be hanging out with us mortals anyway?" Asked Foreman, his voice slick with his gangster roots.

House gritted his teeth. He found his next words extremely painful. "Be….because….becausetherearesomethingsIdon'tknow. There, I admitted it. You mortals have discovered more about medicine and human physiology than, well, even me. Look, I need your help. I've been toiling at this for centuries, but lately Hades has been picking up the pace and raising the stakes. My leg is one example. He's getting greedy, and he wants a bigger piece of all the billions of souls up here, and he's planning on using a pandemic to get them. Think Spanish Influenza was bad? What Hades has will make it look like a case of the sniffles. I either need to find some kind of cure, vaccine, something to prevent it, and mind I don't know what exactly it is, or I have to discover the cure for death to make things right when it does come.

"Every time I save another patient I get a little bit closer to unlocking the truth. I need more though. Cuddy, I need you to bring me more patients."

"What about clinic hours? You could – "

"Runny noses are going to save the human race. Those cases are time wasters, and more importantly, they're BORING!"

Cuddy looked cowed and moved back into Wilson's arms. "Fine," she said. "You're off clinic hours, but I'm docking your pay for my outfit."

Cameron picked up the file and handed it to House. "Let's get cracking then." She smiled at House.

The others moved into the conference room, and Wilson escorted Cuddy out. Before he left though, he said "House, just one last question. You're not really 45 are you?"

House looked back over his shoulder. "More like 6045."


	2. It's Not Lupus!

"You know what this means, don't you?" asked Wilson as he escorted Cuddy down the hall to her office. She was a bit chilly, despite Wilson's arm draped across her shoulders and his lab coat. She was also uncomfortable with all the strange glances she was getting from passers-by.

"No, what does it mean? That he's going to be even more insufferable than ever? That he now wields godly powers that will forever be dangling over my head?" She snapped a little harsher than she would have liked.

"Well, yes," Wilson admitted. "And more over, he was absolutely right about having a big head. He actually is from a higher plane than any of us. But I was actually thinking about what it meant on a spiritual level. The ancient Greeks had it right! There actually is a higher order out there, and not only that, but it mingles with us. There could be other gods anywhere, seemingly living ordinary lives."

"I wouldn't say House leads an ordinary life," said Cuddy dryly.

"No … I wouldn't say that either."

They turned a bend in the hallway, and finally reached Cuddy's office. Cuddy opened the door and then turned to face Wilson. "I'm going to get my purse, I'll need to go home and get some new clothes. Why don't you drive me there, and we can talk about this more."

Wilson was about to decline, but then something in Cuddy's voice caught his attention and he agreed.

Ooo

"Patient is a 34-year-old male, goes to the gym, doesn't smoke, but for some reason – "

Cameron cut her boss off. "I still don't understand how you can't know everything. Why are we going through this process, can't you just magically make him better?"

House's face contorted and his eyes rolled up into his head. "Like I said, there are some things I don't know. There are illnesses and conditions I haven't ever encountered. Humans are a varied people and they keep coming up with new and different ways to harm themselves, and catch all kinds of things that were never around in my time. And yes, I do have some magic," House waggled his fingers at her and made a spooky noise. "Although it's so pedestrian to even call it that. I'm a man of science Cameron; I thought you would have known that by now."

"Well, right, but can't you use your powers or whatever to fix this guy?" asked Chase.

"Not yet. For those of you in the room who need me to say the same thing three times, the answer is, I can't fix what I don't understand. And don't think for a second I haven't been fixing things all along. How did Foreman get his brain back together? That was me. Why haven't you contracted herpes, Chase? That was me. Why is it that every week we solve a medical mystery that is an entirely new disease, condition, whatever, that we've never seen before? Because I'm fixing them as soon as they step through the door. Why is it never Lupus? Because I know how to cure Lupus!"

House was pacing, or more correctly, limping up and down the room. "Lupus is my specialty. There hasn't been a diagnosed case of Lupus in this hospital since I got here. As soon as they come through the door, I can smell it on them."

Foreman made a mental note to check the records about that.

"It smells like crabapples, by the way," House continued.

The three stared at him. Chase had to smother a laugh.

"This is some kind of scam, isn't it? I bet you got Cuddy and Wilson in on it."

Cameron shook her head. "That's not really Cuddy's style. Nor House's for that matter."

House glared at Chase. "You want more proof? Fine here's your proof!" He turned to Cameron, raised an eyebrow and tugged on his left earlobe. Cameron blinked in surprise, and then began to squirm in her seat.

"Ow, ugh," she reached up under the back of her shirt and unfastened her bra. Before all of their eyes Cameron's breasts expanded and filled out her shirt very well.

"I know the secret to natural breast enlargement." House smirked. "And just to prove it to you Chase, I also happen to know the secret to natural male enhancement too."

Chase got a very surprised look on his face and nearly toppled out of his chair.

"I'd do that to Foreman, but I don't have to, since he's," the next word came out as a whisper, "black."

Foreman rolled his eyes and sighed. Cameron looked very upset, but quickly returned to her trained medical tone.

"What if this is all a hallucination? One of us could be in a dream state and making this all up."

"Cameron, my dear," said House quietly. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!"

"It makes sense," Chase said quickly. "This whole scenario goes against all our training and conceptual experience. All of the 'proof' you've given us has been beneficial. Quite possibly you're right too. One of us could be literally out of our minds."

"How is me going up two cup sizes beneficial?! I'll have to replace all of my bras!"

Chase shrugged. "Maybe you've always wanted a larger chest. And you'd certainly wouldn't mind wanting more out of me. If I'm the one dreaming this up, than both suit me. And if Foreman is hallucinating, well I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you had a better set, and um…I don't know why he'd want me to get a bigger cock. Maybe he's secretly bi."

"You're joking," said Foreman with a shake of his head.

"Oh for the love of ZEUS!" said House, throwing his hands up and spinning on his heel. He snatched a book from his shelf. "Dreams are processed on the right side of the brain. The ability to read is on the left. If you can't read this book than it means you're dreaming." He opened the medical tome and dropped it on the table. The three leaned in to peer at it.

"I can read it," said Chase.

"Me too," said Cameron.

"That makes three," said Foreman, arms crossed against his chest.

"What about House?" asked Chase. "We don't know if he can read it or not."

House scrunched his face up into a ball of rage. "If this were my dream, you would stop questioning me and turn into a koala bear!"

House gave Chase an intense glare. After a moment in which Chase did not turn into a koala bear, he went back to the white board and began scribbling.

"Ok, so I guess we can all assume that House actually is the god Apollo and that Hades is working on a disease to kill most of humankind." Cameron, ardent feminist that she is, always refused to say the word 'man' if she could help it. "Are we supposed to call you Apollo now?"

"Ugh, no! As much as I'd like to get on with the diagnostics, I see that your insufferable questions will have to be answered first. No. Just call me House. There wouldn't be much of a point in me having created this secret identity for all of you to just go about using my real name. Not that your society has been kind to it anyway. Apollo Creed? Showtime at the Apollo? Like I'd ever support such no talent hacks," House muttered to himself for a while. The team took turns glancing at each other and staring at House. "They did alright with the space program though. Boy was Artemis pissed when they landed on the moon. When Kennedy even started talking about the idea, she went straight to Zeus. 'Oh daddy! Mankind is getting too big for their britches! Do something!' Spoiled brat. Well sure enough, he lightning'd old Jack, and what did you people do? You accelerated the space program! And Zeus didn't have the heart to kill everyone involved with that, it would look like the mafia was involved or something. And since you humans did it on your own, I guess he felt like you deserved it. Not like fire. Don't ever talk to him about fire."

All three of them looked very confused. "Are you saying Zeus killed JFK?" asked Chase hesitantly.

"What do you think it was? A magic bullet?" sneered House. "Now can we please get back to this case? Clearly we need to test for hironatedmitous – "

"We're missing the most obvious solution to this," said Cameron, cutting House off. He shook his head in frustration, but she continued. "How will we ever find a cure to this impending disease by treating one case at a time? It would be like looking for a needle in a pile of needles, we'd never know until it was too late if it was the right one."

"Yes, I know," sighed House.

"What we should do is go right to the source and find out what he's planning."

House shook his head. "I'm forbidden from going down there, and in any case, he'd hide it too well for me to find. There isn't any other – "

"Yes there is!" Cameron was speaking rapidly, and louder than usual. "What if we go down there?"

House let out a long breath and then shook his head. "The only way down there for you, is if you die. That doesn't seem to me like a good – "

Chase stood up. "If we don't figure out the disease we'll be as good as dead anyway. And besides, you could get us out couldn't you? You're a blooming god!"

House looked away and then turned toward the window. "I can't. But that doesn't mean you can't get out. This plan wouldn't be any good if you didn't have some way to get me the information. And unfortunately for you three, it is a good plan. Probably the only one with a chance of working."

He paused and turned back to them. "Very few people in the history of humans have escaped Hades. Each time they did something different. I'm not sure how you'll get back. This will also mean that I'm going to have to kill you. I want you all to take a long moment to think about what this means."

It didn't take very long for Foreman to speak up. "This is the future of our race that you're talking about. We're doctors; our lives are based around saving peoples' lives. We don't sleep, we eat trash, drink too much coffee, and don't have social lives. The least we can do at this point is actually die." He looked at Chase and Cameron. "I'm ready to go down there."

Chase and Cameron looked at each other. Cameron nodded and then looked at House. "We're in too."

"Maybe I'll get to see my dad again," said Chase.

House nodded. "Ok, let's see what we can do about killing you with the least amount of pain and damage to the body."


	3. And Away We Go

**A/N: I had to do a little research for this chapter. Thank you Wikipedia! Also none of the characters are mine, etc, etc.**

ooo

House led his team out of the office. They were all quiet, but did not wear the somber expressions one might expect of people condemned to die. None of them was sure just where House was leading them. Around them the corridors of Princeton-Plainsborough bustled as it always did. Nurses came too and fro, doctors discussed cases with each other as their stethoscopes bobbed, and family members tried to find the rooms of their loved ones.

But Chase, Cameron, and Foreman hardly noticed the motion around them. They each felt disconnected from the world they had inhabited just moments ago, and despite their earlier bravado, the consequences of the plan weighed heavier on them with each footstep toward wherever House was leading them.

The four reached the lobby, and House stopped briefly at the pharmacy before leading them back to the elevator that took them to sub-basement 1. They wound their way through more corridors, these particularly unpleasant in their décor of gray concrete and snaking pipes above their heads.

Then they saw their destination. In large letters lit with red neon, the sign read "Morgue." House pushed through the double doors with no emotion. The others stopped.

"This is really it," said Chase softly.

Foreman nodded. "Always wondered what it was going to be like."

Cameron shuddered for a moment and then looked to Foreman. "Can you go on ahead for a second? I need to speak to Chase."

Foreman shook his head. "We're all about to die together, and you're worried about being embarrassed by what you've got to say to Chase? Really, I think we're all about to become really intimate with each other."

Cameron looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please?" she asked.

Foreman shrugged. "Fine, whatever." He entered the room and left them alone in the cold basement hallway.

Chase and Cameron faced each other, and as Cameron opened her mouth to speak, Chase grabbed her head, pulled her to him, and kissed her violently. She returned that kiss fiercely, a voice in the back of her head telling her that this could be the last kiss she will ever have. His fingers dug into her hair, and her tongue slid into his mouth. She squeezed him against her body as hard as she could, needing to feel him against her for one last time.

She pulled away from him first, and looked deep into his eyes. "Chase, everything I said about not wanting to be with you – it," she paused, and he let her speak. "I was … I don't know what I wanted, but I couldn't really give myself to you emotionally. I wasn't ready to admit it, but I have to now. I love you."

He blinked, a slight smile spreading across his face. She reached up and brushed a single, perfect tear from his eye. "I love you," he said. "Like I've never loved anyone. I've been with a lot of women, but no one like you. God, I wish we had more time, I,"

The doors to the morgue shot open and House stood there glowering at them. "You're going to come back, you morons, there's no need for this melodrama. Chase, whatever she's telling you is nonsense. Everyone lies, especially when they're about to die. If you want to be all googly-eyed and kissy, kissy with her, wait until you're both back. Cameron, for the sake of humanity, stop dragging this out!"

Chase wore a horrified look, and Cameron was steaming with anger. "How dare you! You don't know what we're going through!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm immortal, can't die, can't relate to your feelings, blah, blah, except, oh wait, I'M A DOCTOR! How many people have I told they were dying? And not just since I got to New Jersey, how about you consider the LIFETIMES I've been dealing with your kind. I'm pretty sure I know more about the emotional fluff you're dealing with than you do!"

Chase now looked more shocked than anything.

Cameron still glowered.

"And if it's such a bad thing, then think about how many billions of people are going to have to go through it too, unless you get in this damn room!"

Chase looked at Cameron. "He's right. Besides, we'll be back."

Cameron scowled at her Aussie love, but gave up and they walked hand in hand into the morgue.

Foreman rolled his eyes when he saw them, but said nothing. House made his way to the end of the corpse lockers and pulled a set of keys from his pockets. He unlocked three of the lockers and drew forth the metal slabs.

Cameron eyed him warily. "Why do you have access to morgue lockers?"

"I bribed somebody. You never know when you'd need something like this. I'll keep the three of you here so no one asks any questions. You have your cell phones?"

They all nodded.

"Good, check your reception. You're going to want to be able to page me when you come back, because it won't do us any good if you suffocate in there. I'm going to have to lock you in so that no one stumbles upon you accidently. Time acts differently in Hades, so it may only be a few hours of real time here, but in any case, I don't want any legal action taken against me for having my team killed."

They did as he asked and everyone's cell phones worked properly.

"Here," House pulled a trio of capsules from his pocket. "Cyanide pills. I got them from the pharmacy."

"Why would the pharmacy have cyanide?" asked Chase.

"Aren't you Mr. Asks-a lot-of questions? Just take the pill."

Cameron couldn't help but speak up. "Some forms of cyanide do have medical uses. Sodium nitroprusside, for instance, can be used in emergency medical situations to produce a rapid decrease in blood pressure. Vascular research also uses it as a vasodilator."

"Thank you Cameron, for reminding us that we were all medical students once, and have learned that valuable bit of information already," said House dryly. "To further tell you things you don't need to know, since you'll all be dead in just a second, the pills in your hands contain potassium cyanide. Once ingested, the cyanide will bind to the cytochrome within your cells. This will prevent the electron transport chain of the cell from functioning, preventing the cell from producing energy. Your central nervous system and heart are particularly prone to this disruption and will cease their operations, rendering you dead. Enjoy the experience; you will be joining Hitler, Rommel, and many other Nazis in the illustrious circle of people who have killed themselves with this little chemical. I always thought Chase hated the Jews."

The three exchanged looks and they all sat down on the steel slabs. "Oh! I almost forgot to give you this." House handed them another tablet. "This is hydroxocobalamin, the antidote to cyanide poisoning. When you get back, be sure to take it, as the cyanide will still be in your system. And if you think about chickening out and take it, remember that you'll be stuck in a metal box, and will suffocate, so either way, you die."

"Cheers," said Foreman, and swallowed his pill. Chase and Cameron exchanged nervous looks and then swallowed their own pills. Within moments they each collapsed, eyes wide open and tongues hanging limply from their mouths.

House closed his eyes tightly and let out a long breath. Meticulously he arranged their bodies to fit inside the lockers, arms folded across their chests. He then took from his pocket three gold coins the size of half-dollars and placed one under the tongue of each of them. And, because he had always thought it looked cool, he did the sign of the cross on each of them as well. He gave his team one final look over, and then one by one, slid them into the lockers and shut the doors.

"Good luck," he whispered and then vanished in a burst of light.

ooo

House reappeared in Cuddy's bedroom.

"HOUSE!" She screamed, grabbing for the sheets to cover herself, and falling off of a very sweaty and surprised Wilson.

"Reverse cowgirl. I'm impressed Cuddy, I always knew you were a tigress in the sack. And you know nobody works harder to please their lady than Wilson. Isn't that right buddy?"

Wilson sighed and pulled the sheets over his lower half and sat up.

"What in the hell are you doing here?!" screamed Cuddy, her face flushed and her hair matted to her. The air had a potent smell to it.

"Well, I was thinking of asking to join in, but no one has discovered a way to pull off double penetration without touching balls, and I think that's kind of gay." House gave his cane a twirl. "But no, I'm here because my team has committed suicide and I still have a patient, which means, I need a new team, and since you two are not preoccupied with anything important, I thought you would be happy to help me out."

Cuddy didn't know how to react to any of this and merely managed to blink and gap at him. Wilson was capable of speech, however.

"Your team committed suicide?!"

"Yes, they decided that the best way to stop Hades' plan was to go to his domain, steal the plans for his secret disease, discover a way to escape, return to life, and give me the solution to this whole thing, so that when Hades finally goes through with it, I can save the day with a miracle cure. Quite literally, since it'll be a miracle if they manage to pull this off."

They both stared at him in horror.

"And no, I didn't con them into this. They volunteered, even Foreman, which is really out of character of him, now that I think about it, because this is exactly the type of thing that he would say is completely insane and there's no way he'd go through with it." House shrugged his shoulders. "Oh well, he's dead now."

Cuddy and Wilson continued to stare at him, speechless.

"Hello? Snap out of it! They're dead, ok! It's not like it'll be permanent. The plan calls for them to come back to life. Remember when I said that? Maybe twenty seconds ago?" he snapped his fingers at them.

Cuddy shook her head, trying to clear the shock from her system. "They're dead? They're really all dead? This was Cameron's idea, wasn't it?"

House nodded. "Nobody else would come up with something this stupid, yet heroically self-sacrificing."

"Why didn't you stop them?" Wilson shouted. "You're a doctor; you couldn't just stand by and let them die! And you're a god for Christ's sake, it's not like they kicked your cane out from under you!"

House sighed and looked away from the pair. "It was the only plan with any meager chance of success. The only other one I've got is to keep curing people in the hopes I'll accidently stumble upon what Hades will use." He paced a little bit and stared at the books on the shelf in the corner. "Which is where you lovebirds come in," he said, turning back to them. "I need you to be my team so that we can keep up the backup plan, just in case they don't make it back."

Wilson looked at Cuddy with an unhappy expression. "I'll get my clothes." Wilson swung out of bed and trooped off to the living room, carrying a pillow to cover his privates.

"Nice ass!" called House as Wilson walked past him.

Cuddy was still glaring at him. "Goddamn you House!" she said, throwing a pillow at him. "I was this close to having one of the best orgasms of my life, and you had to ruin it!"

House gave her a sad face. "Maybe the best a mere mortal can give, but trust me, us gods have the love-making field down to a science."

Cuddy growled at him, wrapped the sheets around her, and followed behind Wilson. She also made sure to keep the sheet high in the back.

"Oh come on!" said House. "Aren't you going to ask my how I just appeared in your room? Everyone has been asking me questions about everything I've done all day."

"I don't care House!" yelled Cuddy over her shoulder.

"It's one of your god-powers!" yelled Wilson who was pulling on a sock.

House continued to poke about Cuddy's bedroom, opening and closing drawers until he found her underwear which he began digging through. "This one's important! It explains every time I showed up at your house unexpectedly in the middle of the night to bother you. Did you really think I drove all the way out here? There usually wasn't any time for that."

"Shut up House!" came a unified cry from the living room.

House held up a leopard print thong and tilted his head to study it better. "I never appeared in your bedroom before because it would have made you suspicious. I only ever bothered to knock to keep up appearances. Same reason, even though I can teleport, I drive at all. Plus the motorcycle is pretty bitchin'. You should see the babes – "

"SHUT UP HOUSE!" they both yelled again, this time directly at him, as they were standing in the doorway completely dressed.

"And stop going through my underwear you pervert!" said Cuddy.

"I was just trying to determine if this was yours or Wilson's."

"We share. There, I said it, now can we please go back to the hospital so we can finish your case," said Wilson.

House rolled his eyes. "A little honesty is all I ask. Now come here, I'll teleport you back over there."

They grabbed his hands and in a flash they were gone.


	4. It's a Long Trip

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you're enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Don't own the characters, yadda, yadda.

ooo

Foreman, being the first to die was the first to open his eyes. He was lying on the slab in the very same morgue he had been in moments ago. He sat up and noticed Chase and Cameron on the slabs next to him, laying quite still, their hands intertwined. He slid off of the slab, his feet touching the ground with a gentle tap. He moved closer to the pair and examined them closely. There was no change in their appearance. Foreman reached down and touched Cameron's neck, his fingers contrasting against her pale skin. There was no pulse.

For a second he had thought nothing had happened, but no, she was dead. His fingers flew up to his own neck and he panicked when he felt nothing. Or was he panicking? He felt none of the symptoms, shallow breathing, racing heart, perspiration. Just then Cameron's eyes flashed open. She sat up, her eyes still wide and then turned to Foreman.

"This is it, huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah, this is it."

Chase stood up behind her. "Sure we're dead? Looks just like the morgue."

"Check your pulse," suggested Foreman. Chase did so and a queasy expression appeared on his face.

"We're really dead then. Kinda disappointing actually, I was expecting to go somewhere besides New Jersey." He looked around the room, hands balled into fists on his waist. "Think we're ghosts then? Doomed to haunt the halls of Princeton-Plainsborough and torment House for eternity?"

"No," said Cameron quietly. "I think we're supposed to go that way."

Foreman and Chase turned to see the far wall tear outward, the concrete giving way to a nebulous darkness. As though it were merely tissue paper, the wall was gone without even the slightest sound.

"Guess we've got nothing to lose," said Foreman nonchalantly. He started to the gapping hole, looked around the edge of it and then stepped through. As the other two watched, he simply disappeared. Cameron and Chase hurried after him.

When they emerged from the darkness the saw Foreman standing there, completely naked. He reacted to their foot falls, and turned. Cameron tried to gasp, but instead gagged and then spit out a gold coin into her hand. She looked at it strangely and then looked back to Foreman. He stared at the coin in her hand quizzically, moved his tongue around, and though he felt nothing, there did seem to be something that blocked the extent of his motion. He reached into his mouth and found the obstacle. It was a gold coin.

Chase reached into his mouth and removed the same gold coin.

"Hey Foreman, nice package! But not as nice as," Chase looked down at his normal sized genitals. "Oh."

Foreman allowed himself his characteristic smirk. His colleagues were nude as well and it seemed that House's last minute additions had not carried over into the afterlife.

The three of them were standing in cavern of black stone. The ceiling was twelve feet above them and was dotted with stalactites. The cavern narrowed into a tunnel not far from Foreman and then continued on beyond their vision. Despite an absence of natural lighting they could all see clearly.

"I'm glad I lost House's 'improvements'," said Cameron, running her hands across her breasts. "I like the girls the way they are, and he is so sexist for," she paused. "I can't feel anything."

"Me neither," said Foreman. "There's no sensation in any part of my body." He had been watching Cameron's self observation. He might be dead, but he could still appreciate a fine woman.

"Hey! That's my girl you're ogling!" snapped Chase.

Foreman shrugged. "What're you going to do, kill me?"

"I bloody will you wanker! I'll –"

Cameron cut him off. "Can we cut the juvenile crap? I don't care if Foreman looks or not. It's all on display anyhow, and it doesn't matter. There's no need to be embarrassed or angry or well anything. We're dead." An understanding crept upon her and her last words came with the tang of solemnity.

"That's not true," said Foreman. "One thing is important. We're here for a reason. Remember the plan. Get in, get the information, and then get back out. No matter what we see down here, no matter what happens, we have to stick to the plan."

Chase nodded. "You're right. Sorry about that mate. It's been a weird day."

"And it's only going to get weirder," replied Foreman.

"Where do we go from here?" asked Cameron, observing the area they were in.

"Seems the only way is down there," answered Foreman, pointing down the passage. He started off in that direction.

Chase and Cameron followed quickly after him. The darkness receded and revealed more cavern of black rock. It continued on for some ways, never turning, never broken by alternate passageways. The only sound was their footfalls on stone. After what seemed to be several minutes, in which Foreman was coming to enjoy the solitary quiet, Chase spoke up.

"Is anybody else bothered by this at all? We're all bleeding dead here, and no one wants to talk about it!"

"There's nothing to talk about," said Foreman. "Staying dead isn't part of the plan. It's temporary. This is nothing more than a bad cold."

"That's weird on its own. Life is supposed to be temporary, not the other way around."

"I don't understand why we can't feel anything," said Cameron.

"Cyanide inhibits the nervous system. That would explain it," Chase replied. "Also explains the lack of a pulse and breathing."

"But that should also prevent us from talking, thinking and walking," Cameron said.

"This is one of those things that can't be explained," Foreman said. "No one has ever been able to study death."

"Certainly doesn't fit so far with what we learned in seminary," muttered Chase. "No pearly white gate and no fire of brimstone either. Might be purgatory, it is drab enough."

"You're thinking from a Judo-Christian mindset," said Cameron. "We're in Hades, not hell; everything that's going on is based off of Greek mythology. Well, I guess it's not mythology now, since we're actually here, and House is actually a god."

"Don't remind me," said Chase. "The only mythology I ever studied was Xena the Warrior Princess."

"Ugh, I can't believe you watched that garbage." Cameron gagged.

"I can," said Foreman.

"It was shot in New Zealand! I was showing South Pacific pride."

"How many times did you see Lord of the Rings then?" asked Foreman with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, er, three or four times, but those were great movies! Oscar winners!"

Cameron had gotten in front of the men and stopped suddenly. "Guys, I think we found something."

The passageway had suddenly gotten much wider, and now there was a sound, the slapping of waves against the shore. There was nothing but blackness, but every now and then they could make out the movement of water as it flowed through the passage. It extended well beyond their sight.

"Is that water?" asked Chase incredulously. "Crikey, that's black as pitch." He bent over to examine it, his hand out stretched in front of him.

"Don't touch it!" screamed Cameron, who grabbed Chase by the shoulders and yanked him back. Her voice echoed through the chamber.

"What the hell?!"

"That has to be the river Styx! Don't touch the water, it could be dangerous!"

Chase looked at her with a smirk. "The band? Mr. Roboto?"

"No! The river! I –" she threw her hands in the air when Foreman interrupted.

"Cameron, did you take mythology classes in college?" He asked in a voice with all seriousness that was tinged with a hint of mockery.

"I, it was my minor in undergrad, ok," she blushed a little bit.

Chase snorted and bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"Don't make fun of me!" she said, her voice quivering just so. "It's obviously a good thing now, isn't it?"

Chase began to retort, but Foreman pressed his hand against the Aussie's mouth. "Quiet! Do you hear that?"

There was a noise, the sound of an object slapping against water. Faint though it was, in the utter silence of the looming cavern it was as remarkable as a gunshot. It grew louder, but its source was beyond their limited sight. They waited with still tongues, and without even their breath to cause distraction they were focused entirely of the sound. Finally it came into view – a boat, helmed by a man pushing a great oar.

As it neared them they could make out more of the man's appearance. He was easily six feet tall and had a dingy grey beard that was much longer still. His features were worn and pale. His face was a gaunt mask of liver-spotted flesh, which only barely covered his skull. There was an absence of color to him, except for one place, his eyes. They shown bright yellow, as though they were twin furnaces. Despite the wild appearance, there was nothing excited about his movements. He moved with a practiced grace as he rowed the boat to the shore. The three backed away when he reached the shore, moving back into the darkness, but his eyes remained fixed on them. After a moment he moved his free hand forward and uncurled his skeletal hand, beckoning to them.

"Charon," whispered Cameron. "He's the ferryman of the dead. He's here to take us into Hades."

"He's a terrifying old bugger," observed Chase. "I thought Charon was some kind of Grim Reaper type."

"That's just the modern depiction. Obviously they were wrong," said Cameron. "He wants payment; we'll have to give him those coins." She walked up to the ferryman and held out her coin. He reached to take it, but then suddenly snatched his hand away. His nostrils flared, and his unblinking eyes matched with Cameron's. "I can smell it on you," his voice was cracked and wheezing, rusted from disuse. "Hope."

Cameron turned to look at the others. They had only confused glances for her. "I have the coin –"

"I know why you are here. I heard you whispering it before, but they often whisper of such things. You have the smell of it on you though. What you intend has only been done five times in all of history, and no, before you ask, Dante did not ever set foot down here until he actually died and there was no coming back for him. You are the first though, that were foolish enough to die to get down here."

"Goddamn House!" cried Chase. "We didn't have to die? That stupid sheep-licking, miserable –"

"Shut up!" snapped Foreman and Cameron at the same time.

The boatman continued as though he had heard nothing. "Hades will know there is something amiss as well, he will. But he is too much of a braggart to assume you would try to leave his kingdom. His pride is such that he would never believe anyone would try to escape."

He sucked in a long breath and licked his cracked lips with a leathery tongue. "He's a right bastard. I have ferried his souls for millennia, and he has refused my every request for holiday." He took the coin from Cameron's hand and brought it up to his eye. "I have enough gold to buy a hundred earthly kingdoms, but no way to ever spend it." He dropped the coin into the boat and it jingled against many, many others. He nodded to Cameron and she pulled herself into the boat, slipping on the coins littering the bottom and falling on her face. Foreman chuckled to himself.

Chase handed Charon his coin and climbed in after her, and Foreman followed suit. The ferryman pushed them off the shore and so began their journey. "The best payment I have yet received is this:" he reached into the folds of his ragged toga and removed a slim, white rectangle.

Chase scrunched up his face. "Is that an iPod?"

"Yes, and though I found the current musical tastes of mortals to be drudgery at first, I have come to enjoy the epic ballads of this Snoop Dog, and the lyrical poetry of Death Cab For Cutie. Despite the many I have ferried since I received this gift, none have been able to explain to me what that band name means."

They exchanged glances.

"It has been a comfort for this old man, weary of listening to the pleading, begging masses. The ones without payment are the worst. They wander the shores of this river for a hundred years always crying for my boat. Many a times I have had to batter them off, but they are often weak."

Chase cringed. "Glad we got those coins."

"House must have put them in our mouths after we died," replied Cameron. "Since they were inside of us they came with us, unlike our clothes. I don't want to think about how someone got an iPod down here."

Charon chuckled, making a sound akin to dumping a bucket of chicken bones down a flight of stairs. "You are good company. I have long hungered for a way to get back at Hades for this accursed task, so I will give you some advice. In your time in this place do not eat anything. A single drop of honey will doom you here for eternity."

"Shouldn't be too hard," said Chase. "Can't get hungry if you're dead."

Foreman rolled his eyes, and Charon chuckled again, much longer this time.

"Do not assist anyone you might see, no matter how hideous their state. They are condemned to their fate and interference will cost you dearly."

Foreman and Chase both stared at Cameron. "What?" she asked defensively

"Lastly, the method of escape for each of those five who managed it was different from the last, and your means will be equally extraordinary. But I can guarantee that should your path lead you to these shores once more I will know and I will come to ferry you back."

They traveled in silence for some time and more shapes became apparent around them. "More boats," said Cameron. "Whose are they? There most be thousands."

"They are mine. Each contains the payment of the souls I have ferried. Hades sends me a new boat to hold my hoard. My treasure floats, longing for the day it may be spent." He stared off at the clusters of boats, each identical to the one they were in and to each other. All were filled to nearly overflowing with gold coins.

"You poor man," said Cameron. "How did you end up like this?"

Charon looked startled and nearly dropped his oar. He quickly attempted to compose himself and ran a hand across his bald, spotted head. "In all my time, none have asked me that question."

"I imagine most people are rather preoccupied," said Chase.

"Aye," hissed the ferryman. "And none are grateful for my services. Even the ones who think they are meant to die are terrified when they see me come."

"You must be in a lot of pain," said Cameron.

Foreman's head fell into his palms. "Not again," he muttered.

The old man's eyes appeared to moisten. "I am, oh I am. This is the first I have spoken in fifty years. Your company fills me to the brim with mirth and good feeling."

"Please," implored Cameron. "Tell us your tale. It might help you to get it off your chest."

Chase stymied a chuckle, and Cameron elbowed him in the ribs, although neither felt it. Charon seemed not to notice and continued speaking, his gaze now drifting off into the distance. "It is a long tale, one that may last the rest of the voyage, but it resolves into a single word: Greed." He began his tale, Cameron sitting up and giving him her rapt attention. Chase thought the whole thing silly, but was eventually brought over and listened closely to the story. Foreman, for his part, only half listened, the other half of him focused squarely on one thing: the plan.


	5. Sit, Sit, Good Boy Now Stay

**A/N **A little later then I'd like, but here's this week's installment. Not sure that I'll be able to make Monday next week either, with the holidays and all. Hope you enjoy.

ooo

"34-year-old male, complaining of joint pain, lose of breath, and then has critical heart failure. No history of heart disease, doesn't smoke, drinks two glasses of red wine a day, and is a former Olympic runner. Ideas?"

"Why are we going through this House? You're all-seeing, all-knowing – why don't you just tell us what's wrong with him." Wilson leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the table. House, Wilson and Cuddy were now in the conference room of House's office. House turned from the white board that he had been writing down the symptoms.

"I had to spend all morning explaining to my team that it doesn't work that way and I'm not going to waste my time or the patient's time answering irrelevant questions. And get your feet off the table, your mother raised you better than that."

Wilson rolled his eyes.

"So, since you're immortal," interrupted Cuddy, "I don't really need to pay you. It's not like you need food or shelter or that kind of stuff."

"It would be a real savings to the hospital," said Wilson, his feet still on the table. "You'll probably have to report him to the INS, he's almost certainly here illegally and I'm sure his records are forged."

"I'll have to look into that," said Cuddy who was wearing a tight red blouse with an upturned, frilled collar. She also wore a black pencil skirt the length of which was an inch above her knees.

"As if I'd use forgeries that could be proven to be forgeries. The paperwork is impeccable," grumbled House. He put down the dry erase marker and planted his fists on the table. "Why? Why are you doing this to me? There is a patient dying in that very room." House pointed in a vague manner over their shoulders. "You know patient – the reason they have these fancy places called hospitals."

"You're a brilliant god, House," said Cuddy. "I'm sure you can figure it out. OR you know, ask your team, oh, that's right, they're all dead!"

House's look soured even more. "That wasn't –"

Cuddy quickly interrupted him. "Ethical? Responsible? Yes, I agree. In fact, I don't really want to talk about the patient. Let's talk about your team. How exactly did they die?"

House looked extremely antsy. He dodged Cuddy's glare. "Cyanide," he said.

"I thought so, seeing as the pharmacy logs say that a Dr. House picked some up today! I haven't talked to our lawyer yet, but I would imagine that makes you an accessory to manslaughter at the least. And that's assuming it can be proven that they committed suicide. Otherwise people might think you murdered them. Do you have any idea what this will do to the hospital? World famous Greg House arrested for triple homicide."

"Catchy headline," said Wilson. "The mugshot photo will be great."

Cuddy continued, her stern gaze locked on House. "What did you do with the bodies?"

House let out a defeated sigh. "They're in the morgue."

Cuddy threw up her arms. "Of course. The morgue. Who would ever expect to find dead bodies in the morgue?"

"That's the point!" snapped House. "You don't expect to find corpses in the East River, or a dumpster, which is why they raise suspicion. The three of them are somewhere safe. Whatever you may think of me now, remember that I am still the same man I was yesterday and that you would agree that I am much, much too clever to get caught up in a murder investigation. No one will find the bodies, and more importantly no one will miss them. All three are single. Chase's family is in Australia, what's left of it. Cameron's doesn't seem to acknowledge that she exists and she blatantly returns the favor. Foreman's mother is deranged, which keeps his father occupied and his brother is in jail. His mother is otherwise healthy, so only in the unlikely event that she dies will anyone attempt to contact Foreman. Being the good little lapdogs that they are, not any of them have a social life. And let me remind you again my dear future Cuddy-Wilson, that I can't be convicted of killing anyone if they come back to life!"

"It's the 'if' that I have a problem with," said Cuddy. "Just how often do people return from the dead? The last one was who, Jesus?"

"Bah, that's a technicality. The point is, is that escaping Hades is entirely possible and not just one, but three of the best minds, are currently doing everything they can to figure out how."

ooo

The boat touched the shore with complete gentleness. The bow dug into the soft, black dirt that made up the beach. Charon was still yammering at Cameron, who now, staring at the grand sight not twenty feet from the shore, was unable to muster a polite response. Chase and Foreman were equally wide-eyed and silent. Chase's jaw hung limply.

Forty feet away was a set of double doors, easily twelve feet tall, and made of jet and ebony, and into which the most masterful runes and pictures had been carved. The details were beyond their sight, but a close inspection would have found that the surface of the doors was scratched with the pictorial telling of the history of Hades, the place, and the birth of Hades, the god.

The doors, as magnificent as they were, did not hold the attention of Cameron, Chase, and Foreman. What did was presently occupying the twenty feet between the door and the unoccupied stretch of beach upon which Charon was intent on leaving the three. A massive dog, as long as bus, and twice as thick, was slumbering in that spot in front of the doors. One would be forgiven for believing that it was actually three dogs, for the great beast sported three heads, each identical, and in close resemblance to that of a Mastiff hound. Its fur matched perfectly with its surroundings, though while everything else might be black as pitch, the fur was merely black as twilight.

Charon realized his words were being unheeded and with a frown noticed the astonishment the three were in. With a low groan he pulled his oar from the depths of Styx and with a hard swing sent the trio flying from his boat and onto the shore. This roused them from their stupor, but before even Chase could scramble back into the boat, the ferryman was off again, rowing back from whence he came. Cameron grabbed Chase by the shoulder and yanked him back to keep him from falling into the eerie water.

"He … he … can't leave us here! There's this bleeding, huge, ugly monster thing! This is the wrong place!"

Foreman forcibly placed his hand over the Aussie's mouth. "Chase if you don't stop yelling, you might wake it up."

That resonated with Chase and he immediately calmed down, although he could not take his eyes off the beast.

Cameron shook her head. "You're both over-reacting. This is just Cerberus, the guardian of the underworld. We'll be able to get by him just fine."

"Right, we'll just walk right past that three-headed dog, and everything will be OK." Chase kept his voice to a whisper.

"We're dead, we're supposed to go into the underworld, the door is right there. It's not like Charon would just drop us off at the wrong place and the dog won't let us in. If I'm remembering right, he's just supposed to keep people from getting out."

"Oh, well, that makes it much better, just supposed to keep us in then, we're going to have to –"

"Did either of you notice that it has snakes growing out of its necks?" asked Foreman who had walked on a bit and was having a closer look at the monster. A great ring of living snakes was now sitting up from all three necks and were keeping their eyes on the trio. Their tongues flicked in and out and their bodies swayed from side to side.

"There's no way in hell I'm getting near that thing now," said Chase.

"Don't be such a baby, Chase, look," Cameron turned and walked past Foreman, and Chase did make a point to look at her as her hips moved to and fro. She strode right up to Cerberus and placed her delicate hand on the right most snout. On cue the right eye of each head snapped open and peered in her direction. The serpents began to hiss shrilly, and an even more massive one, which appeared to be the tail, shot up into the air. The beast let out a great snort of air, and one by one, the heads rose up and hovered over Cameron. The further two then turned and growled at Chase and Foreman, causing a noise similar to a mountain slide. The one closest to Cameron lowered back down, its nose aligned with her face and proceeded to snuff her, the force of which nearly pulled her from her feet. It then extended its tongue which was nearly as long as Cameron was tall and slobbered her with a great lick that almost threw her back. Cameron was quite glad that she had no tactile sensation.

At that moment the great set of double doors opened. They made only the slightest sound, as a well oiled and oft-used door should. Cameron beckoned to the others. "Come on!"

Two of the heads continued to glower at the men, but as they passed the third head they both received an unceremonious licking. The serpent tail was not so civil and hissed loudly at all of them.

Inside the doors the three found themselves in an environment completely opposed to the one they had traveled through. They were at the top of a Grecian amphitheater. A green, pastoral landscape produced the backdrop and appeared to extend for miles. Above them was no black rock, but rather blue sky interspersed with white clouds. The sun hung in the sky providing a comforting light on the weary travelers. The door they had walked through was simply gone, as though it had never existed in the first place. At the center of the amphitheater sat three men, each with immense white beards and wearing trim white togas. Unlike Charon, these men were not gaunt or dirty. Despite their elderly appearance they seemed fit, and the eyes that locked onto the three doctors shown with intelligence. Another man, seemingly as old, though thinner and less well dressed, was now climbing up towards them.

"We have been waiting for you Erik Foreman, Allison Cameron, and Robert Chase. I am Socrates, and I have been appointed to represent you."

Chase and Cameron gave the man strange looks, but Foreman took it all in stride. "Then let's get started."

Socrates smiled and nodded and then turned at led them back down the steps.

"Getting a little bit of explanation would have been nice," muttered Chase.

"We'll figure it out. It might just be time we stop questioning everything. This place has its own rules, and we'd better just go along with it."

Chase scowled. "Got anything on this Cameron?"

"I'm a little fuzzy on this, it's been a long time, but I'd say they're here to judge us."

Socrates reached the bottom row and motioned for the three to face the seated men.

"Behold, mortal souls, the judges of the dead, Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus, entrusted to decide which course of the trivium you will take, whether it be to Tartarus, Asphodel, or Elysium. Be seated now, and should they wish to speak to you directly, you may answer, but otherwise, remain passive for these proceedings."

Cameron gulped. Foreman leaned over to Chase and whispered, "There's your explanation." They all sat on the stone seat of the amphitheater.

The man on the left spoke first. "These souls died by their own hands. Mortals may not trifle with the directions set upon them by the fates. To Tartarus with them."

The man in the middle spoke next. "These souls were physicians during their lives, the good acts they produced balance the sin of their deaths. I suggest the Fields of Asphodel."

Last spoke the man on the right. "The sin of their death cannot be ignored, but other factors should be considered. Erik Foreman redeemed himself from a life of evil after being born into the most base circumstances. His soul contains nobility and strength. Allison Cameron has given kindness to all that have crossed her path. She sacrificed her own happiness for others many times over. I say to Elysium with them. Robert Chase can go on to Asphodel."

Cameron slapped her hand across Chase's mouth. He bit her, but it did no good as she couldn't feel it.

The middle judge spoke. "The fate of Robert Chase has been decided. But there is no decision for Erik Foreman, nor Allison Cameron. Do the souls present have words that may sway the decision of this tribunal?"

Foreman stood without hesitation. "We might have killed ourselves, but the choice wasn't our own to make. We were tricked into it by Apollo!"

All of the judges looked surprised and leaned into each other and spoke in whispers. Foreman sat back down, wearing a smirk.

"What the hell are you doing?" whispered Chase harshly. "You're giving away –"

Foreman cut him off quickly. "Don't say a word. I'm playing off of Hades' dislike of Apollo. It ought to earn us something."

Socrates approached the judges. "The mortal speaks truly. The poison they each took was given to them by the God Apollo, though the reason is as inscrutable as all motivations of the gods are. Whatever it may be, it was not their will that their lives were ended, but that of Apollo."

The judges broke and returned to their places. "This revelation is startling. The gods have not meddled so directly in the fates of mortals for some time. That Apollo would send these three to their deaths in the worst fashion is surprising. Nonetheless, none but the gods can truly understand their natures. Not even we three, imbued with this divine task can determine the drive behind their actions. But we can observe their actions. Since your deaths were encouraged by Apollo, and no mortal can stand against the will of the gods, your fates will not be bound by that sin."

Chase couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

"Nonetheless," the judge continued. "Suicide is a sin of great magnitude. You will all spend eternity in the Fields of Elysium. But before you reach that reward, you must travel through Tartarus and Asphodel and observe the fates of those who dwell within. Let the eternal peace of Elysium be tinged ever so much by the memories of what you see in those realms."

Socrates bowed low to the judges. "As ever your wisdom is mighty and unquestionable."

The judges and Socrates were gone after that and a road became apparent just behind the amphitheater. "I guess that's where we're off to," said Cameron.

"That was a real close call. How long do you think it'll take us to get through those places?" asked Chase.

Cameron shrugged. "I have no clue. I'm sure we'll know. They decided we were supposed to go to Elysium, so we'll end up there one way or another. It's not like they can be overruled."

"So which one is the good one?" asked Chase, as they started up the stairs. "I was worried when it sounded like we'd get split up."

"You didn't pay attention to the context?" asked Foreman sarcastically. "Tartarus is for the bad folk. I'd guess Asphodel is some kind of in-between place, and Elysium has to be whatever heaven is down here."

"He's right," said Cameron. "You almost got screwed over pretty bad, Chase. I think you should remember that later and start doing something better with your life."

"I'm a bleeding doctor! What else am I supposed to do?"

"Maybe volunteer at a battered women's shelter or something. I can give you a couple of phone numbers."

Foreman chuckled. "Good luck Chase."

The crossed the amphitheater and began down the road. It was made of excellent cobblestone, well-worn and easy to traverse. They walked for sometime and entered a forest which closed in around them, but was not particularly sinister. The path opened up and then split into three separate paths. Two of the paths were blocked by massive logs.

"I guess it's pretty clear which way we have to go," said Cameron.

"Here we go," said Foreman.


	6. Questionable Physics

**A/N **Finally up. Sorry for the delay, this was harder than the past chapters to write.

000

Cuddy's fury was simmering, and Wilson, adverse to conflict as he was, decided to change the subject.

"Have you tested for cancer?"

"Hmm," said House, looking up at the ceiling and stroking his chin. "Have I checked for one of the most illnesses, one easily detectable, and whose symptoms don't fit the patient's?"

Wilson groaned. "What do you expect me to suggest? I'm an oncologist for Christ's sake!"

House rolled his eyes. "Fine, check for cancer. Then get me a lumbar puncture. After that check his nasal cavities for -"

Wilson stood, but Cuddy grabbed his wrist. "No."

House scrunched up his face as if she had been speaking Icelandic. "What?"

"We are not going to run your tests. This is your patient, you cure him."

Wilson gritted his teeth. He was suddenly afraid of what was going to happen.

"I need a team," said House slowly and through clenched teeth. He leaned in toward Cuddy in a manner Wilson found far more threatening now that he knew what House was capable of.

"Then you should have thought about that before you killed them," replied Cuddy. Her response was cool and collected. There was no trace of emotion. "If you're going to act like a god House, then you're going to be treated like one."

House nodded to himself and pulled back. "Now we're talking. You feed me the grapes while Wilson runs my tests, and then we'll all gather here so you can write hymns to me."

"I'm an atheist House," said Cuddy, completely unfazed by his humor. "As long as you manipulate us, treat our lives like toys, and demand we bend to your will, I'm going to treat you like every other god. You don't exist. And you can have the burden of saving the human race, running the universe, or whatever other nonsense you want to babble about all to yourself. We're leaving Wilson." Still holding the man's wrist, she stood and pulled Wilson behind her. He was able to give House an apologetic look before they were out the door.

"Help me, or by Zeus I'll turn you into a tree!" yelled House, but they were already gone. He slumped back into his chair and popped two Vicadins. "And to think they used to build temples to me. Ungrateful humans."

After a long moment he turned back to the white board. "Alright Mr. Marcus Kennedy, let's figure out what's wrong with you."

ooo

"Never have I seen such a joyful group of Tartarus bound," came a voice from behind Foreman, Chase, and Cameron just as they were about to set foot down the path to their first destination in the underworld.

They turned quickly and saw a man in perhaps his mid-thirties sitting very still on a stone bench. He wore a white toga and a very bored expression. He was tucked into a little grove facing the three paths, but was obscured from being seen by any coming down the road.

"Who are you?" asked Chase.

"I am Asclepius, son of Apollo, forgive me if I do not stand," he said in a slow, weary voice.

"You're a son of Apollo!" cried Cameron, her eyes wide. Foreman groaned.

The man turned his attention squarely on Cameron. "My dear, your enthusiasm speaks volumes. Do they still speak of the old gods in your world?"

"Well, ah, not really, but – " Cameron stopped when Chase placed his hand firmly on her shoulder.

"Look, we need to get going, why don't we just leave you be? Nice meeting you Aschiiseplous or whatever," he said hurriedly and moved to turn Cameron around.

"What do you think you're doing?" whispered Foreman harshly. "This is supposed to be a secret. We don't even know who this guy is,"

"A friend," Asclepius spoke up. "One with fine hearing, who has been punished unjustly by Hades, and who would know more of those who know Apollo and so willing enter Tartarus. Come, speak with me, perhaps I have a word of advice, one that will be unheard by traitorous ears."

The trio exchanged looks, and finally Foreman nodded. "Alright, fine."

They moved closer to the man. He nodded to himself, his bored expression now transformed into a slight smile. "My thanks. As I said, I am Asclepius, son of Apollo, cast here because Hades pleaded with Zeus for it. My crime was that my knowledge of medicine was so great I could return life to the dead, an act which directly threatened Hades's stature. Upon my arrival to this land he bound me to this bench so that I might watch the dead I cannot save on their way to the afterlife. Would that I might find my afterlife as well, perhaps even Tartarus would be a better place, though I expect this may well be my Tartarus."

Chase turned to Foreman and whispered in his ear, "Does everyone here talk so much?"

Asclepius grunted. "Some of us have lacked the comfort of company for some time, and may never experience it again. I will not burden you with my lonely presence for long."

Cameron slapped Chase hard across the shoulder. "Chase! Why did you have to say that?"

Chase began to retort, but Asclepius interrupted. "I am as eager to listen as I am to speak, tell me your tale and how you know Apollo."

"We work for him at a hospital," said Cameron. "He calls himself House now."

This drew a chuckle from the man.

Chase leaned in closer. "We're here to find the secret to a plague Hades is going to unleash on Earth, so that House, er, I mean Apollo can devise a cure for it."

"Indeed," he nodded. "Such a noble cause, and yet sent to Tartarus, a pity."

Foreman shook his head. "We were judged to go to Elysium, but with the stipulation that we visit Tartarus and Asphodel."

"A more just decision." He paused and observed them all closely. "I will tell you something of this place. If you are to return to the living, you will not see me again. None that have escaped Hades have passed back down this road. You will need to find another way."

An idea suddenly struck Cameron. "You said you could return the dead to life? You must have done this a number of times to get Hades to notice, but Charon said that only five people have escaped Hades."

Asclepius nodded solemnly. "I could only return to life those that had not yet crossed the Styx. And of those, only the ones that were willing to return. If I were to think that you three wished to escape Hades, I would give you this advice: no matter what you see, or what you do in your time here, do not give up the will to live."

Chase turned to the others. "Anyone got a notebook for all this advice we keep getting?"

"It's called my brain," said Foreman.

"I think it is best for you three to continue your journey. I wish you luck and courage."

"Is there anything we can do for you?" asked Cameron. "To thank you for helping us? Maybe we can get you off that bench."

Asclepius tried to speak, but Cameron was already tugging at his arm, and finding him impossible to move. "Come on guys!"

Chase and Foreman gave her a look, but also began pulling on the man. Though there were no visible bonds, they could not budge him, as though he were a piece of the bench itself. To his credit, Asclepius took the affair with a quiet dignity.

"It's no good, it's like he's bloomin' glued to the thing," said Chase.

Cameron frowned. "Maybe it's the bench. Why don't we try to break it, or tip it over?"

Asclepius's face became a mask of terror, and as much as he implored them to stop, the three had come across a mystery they wouldn't back down from. While Foreman and Chase each grabbed one side of the bench to push it over, Cameron went back down the path to find a good rock or tree branch, anything that might be used to break the marble bench.

After one good push, Foreman and Chase managed to uproot the bench and pushed it over so that Asclepius was now on his back. "OW!" he shouted. "What madness have you done! Right me this instant!"

Foreman leaned over. "Don't worry, Cameron's back with a big rock, we'll smash this bench for you in no time."

Cameron came up and handed Foreman a sharp looking, granite rock she had found along the trail. He began to smash it against the stone bench underneath Asclepius's legs. The man was unable to move them to resist, and could do nothing but flail is toes and continue yelling at the three of them.

After a few minutes of Foreman pounding the bench Chase said, "Are we sure about this? Charon told us not to interfere with people's punishments."

Cameron shook her head. "We're not technically in the part of the underworld where people are supposed to be punished, and anyway this is really an unjust situation. This man didn't deserve to end up like this."

"Being dead is kinda cool," said Foreman. "I'm not getting tired at all, and this rock should be cutting my hands to ribbons, and I can't feel a thing. This is great!"

"Can I take a turn?" asked Chase. "I'd like to imagine House's face every time I smash that rock."

Foreman stood and shrugged. "Go for it."

Chase began to smash the rock as well, and by now Asclepius had just given up on reasoning with the trio. Cameron found his silence disconcerting and went to speak to the man.

He noticed her right away and said, "My dear, I know your intentions are for the best, but this bench cannot be broken by mortal hands, and I cannot be removed from it. Such is Hades powers. Now if you would please –"

"Got it!" yelled Chase who jumped into the air. Foreman crouched down and saw a large fissure in the bottom of the bench. He gave Chase a big high-five.

Asclepius was flabbergasted. "It required the might of Heracles himself to remove Theseus from one of these benches! How could a mortal –"

"Seems like Ol'Heracles wasn't too bright. He didn't think about breaking the bench," said Chase smugly. "Come on guys, give me a hand. Foreman you take that side, we'll take this one and then we'll pry the bench off."

With great effort, the managed to push each side of the bench towards Asclepius, which had the desired effect of the bench snapping in half across the immovable connection it had with the man. A rather large piece of marble was still attached to Asclepius, but the magic had been diminished enough that he could stand.

"By the gods, this is a miracle!" He stood, completely in control of his movement again. "My suffering is over! You, you are legends among mortals." He hugged each other them, and danced a little jig. "Freedom! Where will I go? To Elysium of course! I am long past the judges, and all the routes are open to me!" He started off to the far right fork in the trail, which looked to the trio to be completely blocked off. "I will find a way to repay your kindness my friends. I swear it on the River Styx itself!"

Asclepius was gone then, and the three turned and traveled down the path that led to Tartarus.

They stood side-by-side-by-side and the path extended to accommodate them. The moment they stepped forward the forest they had been in disappeared and they were standing on a cliff made of red stone overlooking a dusty plain that stretched out for miles. The sky was a dull shade of rust punctuated by black clouds. Sharp winds blew dust and sand this way and that, scratching their bare skin. The sensation was immediate and terrible, since it was at this moment that their sense of touch returned.

Cameron screamed and nearly toppled over. Chase and Foreman, equally in pain, fought through it and pulled her in-between them to shield her with their bodies.

"Which way to do we go?" shouted Chase over the roar of the wind.

"Down!" said Foreman, pointing uncomfortable to the left. He gritted his teeth, and instantly regretted it as sand got in his teeth. Chase followed Foreman's suggestion and began to move down an accessible part of the hill they were on. The ground was made of dirt and rocks and was painful to walk on. They found an outcropping of large rocks that provided some cover from the wind and settled there.

"This is hell?" Chase asked. "Guess the fire and brimstone would be worse." He pulled a sharp rock from his heel. "Bloody hell."

Cameron was bunched up against a large stone, her hands covering her head to block the wind. "This isn't hell! It has the same purpose of punishing the wicked, but it isn't connected to Christian traditions. We can't expect to see the devil or demons or whatever!"

"It doesn't matter where we are!" shouted Foreman. "We just need to find the way through here and get to the next place! If we keep descending the cliff, the wind should get better, and then we can follow the mountain around and at least have some shelter!"

Chase was staring off over one of the rocks. "Guys, what is that?" Cameron and Foreman scrambled over to see what he was pointing at.

A frog of immense size hopped towards them. It was a monstrous thing, its shoulder the height of a man and its width even more. Its back was covered in what seemed to be diamonds, each the size of Foreman's hands. Bulbous eyes grew from the flat of its head and circled in all directions. A purple tongue draped indecently from its mouth. They immediately ducked back undercover.

"Maybe it'll just go past us," suggested Foreman.

But there was no such luck. Instead the monster came right up to the outcropping, and with its front legs, hoisted itself upwards and looked down at the trio.

"Welcome mortals," it rasped, its eyes not focusing on any of them, and its tongue jerking like a stringless puppet. Cameron felt nauseous and Chase and Foreman were equally disgusted by the beast. "The judges say that you're allowed only a taste of Tartarus, but were their word not supreme, you would be kept longer to add your suffering to this place. You are to continue onto Asphodel, but if you became lost, perhaps it would take you longer than you'd like? Yes, you won't find help escaping Tartarus, no, quite the opposite. Enjoy your time, guests."

Before any of them could react there was a blinding light, a sensation of falling, and then nothing.

oooo

Chase found himself sitting at a rustic wooden desk, inside what looked to be a log cabin, wearing a grey suit. After a moment of blinking away his confusion he went to run his hand through his hair and discovered he was wearing a hat. It was grey as well, with a short front brim and slanted at the top. He had never seen something like it before. On the desk were a number of letters, all hand-written, and an ink well and feathered pen. There were two stacks of papers; it seemed that he had been signing them. As he began to survey the room there was a sharp rapping at the door across from his desk.

"Enter," he said hesitantly.

A man entered quickly. He was dressed in a similar suit as Chase, who began to realize that it was a uniform of some kind. The man saluted. Chase returned the gesture and the man began to speak.

"Cap'n Chase, sir, we found Mr. Cameron's missin' daughter and the negro who took her!" The man spoke with a thick accent that Chase was unfamiliar with. It definitely seemed American though.

Confused, Chase stood and crossed the room to follow the man, floorboards creaking under his step. After a brief walk down a hallway and past a few other offices, they emerged through a set of wooden double doors. A crowd greeted them. It was mostly made up of people dressed in very old fashioned clothes and several more men dressed in the same grey uniforms. Behind the crowd was a wall made up of what Chase thought to be sharpened logs. Before he could puzzle over this, another man moved forward and pushed a black man down in front of him. The man seemed the worse for wear; his clothes were ripped and his hands were bound behind his back.

"This is him, Cap'n!"

The prisoner looked up, and Chase realized he had seen that face before. It was Foreman.

"We found 'im in the woods six miles from here rapin' Mr. Cameron's daughter," said the second uniformed man.

"Mr. Cameron?" whispered Chase.

A shrill cry broke the air. "Leave him be! He did no such thing! Let him go!"

A young woman pushed her way through the crowd, despite the confining and bulky dress she was wearing. Her voice sounded different, but there was no denying it was Cameron. "He didn't rape me! We were running North together to be free!"

A hush fell over the crowd. Two men secured her immediately. They forced her down next to Foreman. The man next to Chase, who surmised that these were soldiers of some kind, spoke. "She just confessed to treason! Consortin' with a darkie is bad enough, but treason, sir!"

Chase suddenly became award of a revolver hanging from his right hip. The crowd was now shouting, "Death! Death! Death!"

Chase looked down at the knelling forms of Foreman and Cameron. She pressed herself against him and her lips enveloped his. "Take my life, but you'll never take our love!"

Foreman merely glared up at Chase with eyes filled with hatred.

"But you love me," mumbled Chase dumbly. The crowd was making so much noise they couldn't hear him.

"I could never love a monster like you!" she spat on his dark boots.

Chase surprised himself with the anger that suddenly rose inside him. He pulled the revolver from his holster and put it to her forehead. The crow moved back, but cheered and hooted and hollered even louder.

"Say you love me," growled Chase.

"Never!"

Chase pulled the trigger.

Cameron crumpled over, her head falling into Foreman's lap. The crowd roared its approval. Foreman looked down at Cameron, her eyes rolled upward to the tiny hole in her forehead. Foreman let out a strangled cry of grief and looked up at Chase, tears pouring down his cheeks."

"The darkie too, sir?" asked the soldier.

Chase nodded slowly, aimed the pistol at Foreman and fired.

The crowd was deafening.

ooo

**A/N: **Next time: More House trying to do medical things! Wilson and Cuddy re-examine the universe! Foreman and Cameron's experiences in Tartarus! Will our intrepid trio make it out? Will they end up with clothes again? Who knows!


	7. Hell Hath No Fury

**A/N:** The holidays are out of the way and I can get back to writing at a decent clip. I'll see if I can get back to updating weekly.

ooo

Cameron found herself bound to a metal chair. Restraints held her hands, ankles and neck. Where ever she was, she was in total darkness and silence, and only the sensation of touch was free to her. She was also, to her relief, clothed. She tugged at the restraints for a few moments, but found no give in them.

"Hello?" she meekly called out.

In response, a light turned on somewhere above her and revealed a set of glass tanks directly in front of her. The tank on the left was filled with golden retriever puppies, dozens and dozens of them, which were whimpering and crawling all over each other. Cameron felt her heart melt looking at the precious darlings.

The tank on the right contained House. He was more unshaven than usual, his brow sweaty, and his ragged T-shirt was drenched and clung tightly to his manly chest. He looked at Cameron with wide, soulful eyes and pressed his forehead against the glass.

"Cameron, thank god you're here. I … I don't know how I got here, but being trapped like this has made me understand things clearer. I don't know how to tell you this, but I have bipolar disorder. That's the truth behind my behavior. I got the bipolar after being beaten by my cruel father. He would sometimes lash me with the family dog. Nothing I have done is my fault. I just didn't want people to get close to me and then by hurt because I was sick. But I know now that what I really need in life is someone who can love me unconditionally and give me order to my rollercoaster life. I need stability and affection. There's only one person that I really believe can save me, and that's you Cameron. You're so compassionate and loving. And most of all, beautiful. I know you could fill my life with happiness, and I would do everything I could for you. I haven't been able to admit it, not until now, but I love you Allison Cameron. I love you more than anyone I ever have."

Cameron strained at the bonds on the chair. "House! Oh House! I love you too! I'll help you! I'll –"

Just then a glass tube was lowered down between the two tanks and fit snuggly between them. House didn't seem to notice, he was pounding against the glass, trying to reach Cameron, but the puppies did. One by one they sniffed the air, turned towards the tank with House and then crawled through the tube. When House realized that Cameron wasn't staring at him, but rather the growing throng of puppies, he turned.

"Oh, puppies. I love puppies. You poor little things look hungry." He bent down with an outstretched arm and then a trio of the animals leapt at his exposed throat. House stood and spun, a spray of blood splattering the glass and partially obscuring Cameron's view. House fell and the rest of the puppies leapt upon him, ripping and tearing his flesh with their tiny teeth. Cameron shrieked and screamed until her voice became hoarse, but could do nothing else as House was devoured.

When they were finished, they turned back to the glass, pawing it and licking up the blood splatters. Cameron could only whimper, her face streaked with tears. The lights went out. She sat in darkness and silence again for a long moment and then the lights came on again, revealing two glass tanks, one with a standing House in it, and the other with dozens of puppies.

ooo

Foreman was whistling when he opened the office door. It was empty, but that wasn't surprising given that he was always the first one in the office. The early morning light filtered in through the blinds and touched the room with a dull glow. Foreman enjoyed the mornings the best when he had the space to himself and could peruse the latest file at his own pace and sip his coffee. He started the coffee machine and the sound of his whistling was now joined by the percolating of the coffee. Otherwise it was completely quiet. This was his peace. Unlike the others, he didn't crave attention and other people. Even House for all his anti-social tendencies needed people if for nothing else then to keep his demons at bay. Foreman didn't need people. Sure, he dated, but that was more for sex and that nagging social convention that people without significant others were inferior. Every day Foreman was closer to shedding that particular nuisance. Sex, well, he probably wouldn't ever give that up. It was a hobby he enjoyed very thoroughly.

Working at the hospital gave him precious little time to himself with the long hours and crowded conditions. He probably didn't spend more than five hours a day by himself in his modest apartment. Foreman wiped the dry erase board clean with deliberate and careful strokes. Alone, he had all the time in the world to focus on anything he wanted. It was freedom. He picked up his cup and the file and sat down at his usual spot. He was a few pages into the file when his serenity was broken by an opened door and a harsh voice.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Foreman half-glanced at House who was standing in the doorway between the conference room and his personal office. He was wearing his typical unbuttoned button shirt and aged concert T-shirt. This particular one was for the Barking Tetons. "Reading today's file. Part of my job."

House hobbled over to the other side of the table and glared with a special kind of hate that he kept reserved for special occasions. "That was your job. It was your job until you misdiagnosed that girl and she died. There's no room on this team for failure and I thought you would have known that."

Foreman closed the file slowly and placed his mug back on the table. "Patients die. It's part of the profession, you can't expect –"

"Patients die of things we can't cure," snapped House. "Inoperable brain cancer. HIV. They die when their condition is something so mysterious we can't figure it out. What they shouldn't die of is our mistakes. Doctors that make mistakes are doctors I don't want on my team. Get out."

"That kind of perfection is impossible," Foreman protested.

"Can you fix her being dead? Mistakes are only fine when they can be corrected. Death can't. If you make a mistake, you'll make another. No one else is going to die because of you Foreman. Get out. Go be a janitor or a secretary, or a mailman where you can make your mistakes without consequence."

House grabbed the file and flung it across the room. "Get the hell out! You failure! You were the only one of them I saw any competency in." He ran his fingers through his graying hair. "I saw a little bit of myself in you, but not anymore. Find yourself a new profession and get out of my hospital!"

House was one of the few men Foreman respected and genuinely admired. To hear this from a mentor like House was crushing. To know that he would have to give up the career that had turned his life around was devastating. But to realize that he was a failure was the finishing blow to Foreman.

Foreman sat there, looking up at House, with a sly smile.

ooo

Chase lifted the revolver to his lips and blew the wisp of smoke rising from the barrel away into the air. At his feet lay the bodies of two traitors and in front of him was a crowd roaring their approval. Chase grinned, despite himself. From up on the gates some ways ahead came a yell.

"Cap'n! A rider is acomin'! I think it's Mr. Cameron!"

Chase lifted his cap and wiped his brow. "Let the man through!" He yelled. The soldier nodded and in short order the wood gates opened and in rode a tall man on a stunning black mare. The crowd parted for him and he pulled just short of the bodies at Chase's feet. The man swung off his horse in a swift and fluid movement. Chase, to his very great surprise recognized him. It was House, dressed in a very out-dated and elaborate suit complete with top hat and black cloak. He also, inexplicably, had an amazing set of mutton-chops. He glanced down at the bodies and then back to Chase.

"Good Captain." He tipped his hat to Chase. "I came to call upon my daughter, but it seems that something unfortunate has befallen her."

"That's right," said Chase. "She was plotting to run North with that slave right there." Chase felt very confused, and he didn't recognize his voice.

House nodded and cast another look upon the corpse of Cameron. "Sir, in this time of war, I can understand your swiftness, but I would have expected a gentleman of your quality to have notified a man before you executed his daughter. I am disappointed in you sir. It seems my daughter chose her fiancée poorly." House threw back his cloak and revealed a revolver on his hip. Chase took a step back, as did the soldier behind him.

"Sir, I find that my honor call upon me to challenge you to a duel." He pulled the revolver, a magnificent weapon, plated with silver and with a black ash hilt, from his hip and held it up in the air. "Ten paces sir, and may the best man live."

Chase gapped at him. "I can't do anything that –"

"Cap'n," whispered the solider behind him. "They'll be expecting you to take his challenge." He pointed toward the crowd who were looking at Chase with wide eyes. Chase looked at them warily.

"Well sir," said House with a mocking chuckle. "Are all the men of the Confederacy cowards like yourself? Why, I daresay I fear for the safety of our women."

Chase gritted his teeth and walked over to a clearing to the side of the building. The solider acted as the referee and set the two men back to back.

"Ten paces. Proceed!"

Chase gripped the pistol in his hand until his knuckles turned white.

"One."

He could hear the footfall of House's fine leather boot in the dirt and the hush that fell over the crowd.

"Two."

"Three."

Chase felt the sweat slip down his brow.

"Four."

It was one thing to kill Foreman and that lying Cameron, but House? He had given Chase a chance no one else had.

"Five."

The man was a genius, a master of his art, he could cure so many. To kill that kind of a person…

"Six."

What kind of a man was Chase then?

"Seven."

A bad man?

"Eight."

A coward?

"Nine."

A survivor.

Chase spun and fired, hitting House squarely in the back on his left side, penetrating that fine suit and his beating heart. House collapsed. Chase dropped the pistol in his soldier's hand as he walked over to the body. "Sir, you can't just," mumbled the soldier. Chase paid him no mind and rolled over House.

"Sorry, House, but that's just who I am."

House nodded slowly, his eyes unable to focus. "As you always have been. You learned well from me. You live while others die. Your reward." He raised a trembling hand upward toward the crowd. The same people that had cheered his name were now moving towards him with curses and raised fists. A rock struck Chase right above the eyebrow and he toppled over. He could do nothing as the crowd descended on him.

ooo

**A/N: **Thank you for your reviews. In response to that one, Hades is actually the name of the god and the place, much as Washington is the name of George Washington and the capital he ruled in.


	8. Escape part 1

**A/N**: Normal Disclaimer of lack of ownership of subjects written about here in. After a bout of writer's block I found my skull burst open and out leapt the following chapter. The next should come at a quicker pace than the previous ones, but this ended itself naturally and I wanted there to be something there for you to read. Enjoy.

ooo

"What are you smiling about? Is this some kind of joke to you?" House growled at Foreman.

Foreman couldn't contain a brief chuckle. "No, I don't think it's a joke. It's just that you're not House and this isn't Princeton Plains-Borough. This morning you, well not you, told me that the ability to read is located in the right hemisphere of the brain, while dreams occur in the left hemisphere. And since I've been looking at this file and all I see is gibberish, I can safely say that this is just a dream state. I'm actually in Tartarus and in a moment all I'll see is the red mountain range and my friends."

House looked like he wanted to say something particularly nasty and seemed to sputter with rage, until he just disappeared, along with the office. As Foreman said, he was indeed back on the dusty hill from whence the awful toad had sent the three of them to their separate mental hells. The diamond backed toad was still there, standing over Cameron and Chase. It turned to Foreman and gave what may have been a surprised look, though its features were so alien it was difficult to discern one emotion from another.

Foreman pointed at the frog. "Release them now."

The monster opened its mouth and its purple tongue reached up and washed its own eye. "That is not for me to do," it said in a voice full of phlegm. "They must escape themselves."

Foreman narrowed his eyes. "Send me to them, then. I will free them. You cannot hold us forever, the Trivium decreed our passage."

There was no mistaking that the demon was displeased in its expression. It made no sound, but suddenly Foreman found himself in a darkened room. He could see nothing, but did hear a hushed whimpering. Suddenly a light flashed on and revealed two glass tanks. One contained House. The other contained dozens of golden retriever puppies. The whimpering Foreman had heard was now replaced with screams. He turned quickly and saw Cameron bound by her neck and wrists to a metal chair. Somehow, over her screams Foreman could hear House speak.

"Cameron, thank god you're here. I … I don't know how I got here, but being trapped like this has made me understand things clearer. I don't know how to tell you this, but I –"

Foreman wasn't sure just where this was going, but he could tell by Cameron's reaction that it was going to be bad. He knew he was in a dream state and that the normal laws that might bind things in the real world, and even in Hades, wouldn't apply here. He swept into action, first by rushing at the glass case housing House, which he smashed with a single punch.

As his cage fractured around him House continued with his spiel. "- have bipolar disorder. That's the truth behind my behavior. I got the bipolar after being beaten by my cruel father. He would sometimes lash me with the family dog. Nothing I have done is my fault. I just –"

Foreman realized this was part of the problem. In one simple motion, he ducked down and then sprung up in a tremendous uppercut and lifted him up off the ground and connected with House's jaw. House was blasted upward and into, then through, the ceiling above.

Cameron's screams just as suddenly stopped. "F-f-foreman?"

He turned back to Cameron. As he had been on the fields of Tartarus, he was completely naked. Cameron, however was dressed in her usual lab coat and crisp powder blue blouse and brown skirt reaching to the knees along with tasteful pantyhose and a brown, square-toed shoe with decorative buckle. "Let me get you out of that," said Foreman. He walked over and ripped the bond on her left wrist free.

"N-no, Foreman, the, the puppies," she sobbed, her eyes still wide and filled with tears and horror.

"Puppies?" He asked, not noticing the throng approaching him from behind. He felt something brush against his leg and turned. They were all around him, rubbing up against his leg and making cute noises. "Oh puppies, how cute."

Foreman knelt down, and Cameron screamed again. Foreman turned back to her to see what was wrong, but they had already sprung, their razor sharp teeth digging into his arms and neck.

Bright red blood flew from the wounds, and Cameron was covered with the life of Foreman. Her screams ended; her shock was too great to even be released by such primal means. Instead she simply shook, and her eyes were unable to be moved from the gruesome sight in front of her.

Foreman was quite surprised at what he was experiencing, and almost forgot that he was in a dream. But he knew that the sensations he was having, unimaginable pain and faintness from blood loss, where illusions and that there was no logical reason why he could not move his puppy-covered left arm up to the puppy gripping his jugular and with his left hand grab it by the skull, which could then be crushed with the appropriate effort. He did just that, and the puppy exploded in a burst of gore.

With the feeling of having his throat ripped out behind him, Foreman was able to concentrate much better and he dispatched the other puppies clinging to him in a similar manner, one after another. The surrounding fiends that had not been able to get a piece of the neurologist took their chance to spring, but Foreman was no slouch and destroyed each with a well-placed punch or kick, even in one instance crushing the spine of a puppy with a stomp of his foot.

When they were all killed, Foreman turned back to Cameron, who had sometime through the ordeal vomited all over herself and seemed to be in some kind of trance. She was sporadically twitching and her eyes were blinking out of synch with each other. Her tongue hung limply out of the left side of her mouth.

"Cameron, what's wrong? This is all just a dream," he said. Cameron didn't respond. Foreman looked down at himself, and was a little bit disturbed when he saw the amount of visceral, both puppy and his own, that he was covered with. His intestines had also been removed at some point by the puppies, and there was the matter of his ripped out throat. Foreman shook his head and with the power of his mind repaired his damaged body. He then caused a towel to appear in his left hand and wiped off the offal he was lathered with. For good measure he also summoned a small rain cloud localized over his head which finished the cleansing process.

He finished the short task of unbinding her, and though still cationic, she was twitching a bit less. "Cameron?" Foreman said again, waving his hand in front of her eyes. She didn't respond. Foreman sighed, stood back up, and rubbed his chin. It seemed to him that she was suffering from PTSD, but he knew few medical ways, and no quick ways, to cure it.

"Cameron," he said, leaning in close to her again. "This is a dream state. You haven't actually seen anything you've seen here. That House wasn't real, and those puppies didn't actually eat me." Cameron didn't respond and Foreman shook his head. "Ok, well, I'm going to try and move you to a more comfortable environment, and see what we can do about your issues."

Foreman moved away from her and concentrated very hard. He was unsure just how much effect he could have on the general dreamstate around him. When he opened his eyes he was quite delighted to see that Cameron was now in a comfortable, plush leather chair instead of the metal one she had been strapped to.

"Progress," said Foreman to himself with a smile. Just then the lights snapped off. Foreman spun around, trying to determine what had just happened. After a few moments, the lights returned, and in front of the pair were two familiar glass boxes. House began to talk, but Foreman tuned out his nonsense and noticed the tube that connected the boxes.

He rubbed his chin again. "So every couple of minutes, Cameron has been seeing House, trapped in a box, express his undying love for her and then be ripped apart by a pack of adorable puppies. Hmm. I suppose watching me be mauled by those same puppies and then kill them all wasn't very therapeutic for her. First things first. I need to get her out of this toxic environment."

Foreman squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated really, really hard, and imagined him and Cameron in a beach-front condo on an otherwise deserted island. Before he even opened his eyes, Foreman could hear the slap of water against the beach. Cameron was where he had left her, corpse-still on the plush leather chair, which had become a couch which faced out toward the screen door of the porch which was a flimsy barrier between them and the sea. The rest of the condo was laid out in a tasteful, modern eye. The furniture and other dressings were either black or white, which caused them to recede into the background and brought more attention to the bright paintings on the wall. They were mostly abstracts with a few portraits. With the beach and ocean just a turn away there was no need for landscapes. Foreman was quite pleased.

He decided the first step to treating the PTSD was to end the physical anxiety Cameron was experiencing. To do so he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom where he drew her a warm bath in the ivory whirlpool tub built into the south wall. The rest of the fixtures were trimmed with gold. He gently undressed her, and kept his touch to that of a doctor with a patient. Her underwear he simply made disappear as they were too much trouble to get off without her cooperation. He placed her in the bath, keeping the water warm and making bubbles to conceal her. He leaned her just so, leaving her submerged to her shoulders, but at an angle in which she would not slide down into the water. Not that he was worried she would drown, after all she was dead already, but he thought the sensation of drowning might not help her therapy. As she soaked, the warm water removing the tension in her muscles and forcing her to physically relax, Foreman brushed her hair with a silver hairbrush.

After an hour in the bath, Cameron was much more limber and easier to transport. She had not as of yet been able to talk, but she was blinking now and her jaw had unclenched. He decided that continuing to meet her physical relaxation was the path to take for the moment. To this end he created an elaborate spread consisting of cupcakes, macaroni & cheese, popcorn and Haagan-Das chocolate ice cream. He wasn't exactly sure which comfort food Cameron would prefer, but given that she still seemed unable or uninterested in feeding herself, that he would start with the ice cream. If he could coax her out of her shell far enough, then maybe she would go about eating on her own.

Foreman settled Cameron on the plush leather sofa and then began to feed her spoonfuls of ice cream. She resisted at first, keeping her lips closed and tight across her teeth. But Foreman was persistent and gentle and she finally let him in. He continued feeding her for a long time without any real response from her, but when he took longer than normal to return the full spoon to her lips, she moved, opening her mouth like a fish. He took her hand and the spoon and clasped them together and moved her through the motions as though she were a puppet. After several repetitions he stopped supporting her arm and put her hand and the spoon into the ice cream carton. Again she began to motion for the ice cream, but this time Foreman did not answer her. Instead she was forced to bring the ice cream to her own lips. Her actions were hesitant and jerky, but Foreman smiled as she brought the treat to her mouth of her own violation.

Foreman stood, gathered the other food, and placed it in front of her on the glass coffee table. He then left the room and sat on the patio and watched the ocean for awhile. Every once in awhile he would turn back to see her picking up a handful of popcorn or biting into a cupcake. She was progressing faster than he would have guessed, but then again it was difficult to discern the passage of time inside a dreamstate inside Tartarus. Foreman watched the waves for sometime and was lost in his thoughts when he was startled by a hand grasping his shoulder. He looked up and saw Cameron standing there staring at him. She had made a bit of a mess of herself between the ice cream and macaroni and cheese, but didn't seem to notice. She didn't say anything, but pointed toward the beach.

Foreman stood. "So you want to go down there? Ok, follow me."

He took her hand and led her down the short stairway from the patio to the white sand. He couldn't help but smile at the face she made upon contact with sand as it moved under her foot and she nearly fell over. When they reached the water Foreman decided to take her therapy a step farther. He believed that she might have a fear of cute animals now, and possibly either a fear of abandonment or love, or perhaps just House. In any case, he figured that it might be time to reintroduce Cameron to animals, just not mammals and particularly puppies. To this end he conjured a number of sea turtles just off the shore.

Cameron was in the water, watching it slap against her ankles and scooping it up in her hand when the first sea turtle clamored up the beach next to her. She hadn't seen it, which was fairly surprising as Foreman had created Loggerhead turtles which weighed in excess of 800 pounds. Cameron hopped back in surprise and tripped, spinning and falling into the water with a splash. Foreman laughed as she floundered in the water, but another turtle came up behind her and lifted her up out of the water as it joined its companion on the beach. Cameron looked very surprised at the great beast underneath her. This surprise went away quickly when she saw the animal was both cute and not dangerous. Before long she was back up and running up and down the surf and diving into the water to greet the turtles still a float.

Foreman watched for awhile, then conjured a copy of Rolling Stone and let Cameron play. He felt oddly at peace, considering where he was. When he put the magazine down, the light in the sky was starting to fade and Cameron was standing in front of him. Her hair was soaked and clung to her neck and shoulders. Her skin glistened with tiny drops of salt water that would roll down her body when she breathed. On her face was a look of utter happiness. Foreman gulped a little, doctor though he was, he had never seen Cameron in such a light and could not help but see how attractive she was. She reached out then and touched first his throat and then, dragging her fingers down, his stomach.

Foreman was slightly shaken by this, but then realized what it meant. "I'm not hurt," he said. "I won't go anyway. You're safe."

Cameron did not speak, but seemed to understand his words and withdrew her hand. Unintentionally, she then let out a long yawn. Foreman nodded. "Tired, huh? It's been a long day. Let's find you a place to sleep."

She followed him back into the condo and then down a hallway past the bathroom. He pushed open a door and led her into a small, but quite nice, bedroom. The bed was a queen-size covered in a quilt embroidered with flowers and dragonflies. Cameron looked at it curiously and Foreman took her by the hand and motioned for her to climb up onto the bed. He pulled back the cover and when she had climbed in he covered her with it. She seemed very pleased and moved the quilt and pillows around until she found a comfortable position. She smiled at Foreman again and then closed her eyes. Foreman returned the smile and then left the bedroom, attempting to make as little noise as he could.

Foreman returned to the living room and tried to figure out what to do next. He felt neither fatigue, nor hunger, and did not want to leave the condo for a swim if Cameron woke up and went looking for him. So he flopped down on the couch, summoned a large stack of the American Medical Journal and began reading. Just for the sake of it, he also created a bowl of Cool Ranch Doritos and a six pack of Sam Adams.

Three-quarters of the way through the stack of magazines, Foreman heard a piercing scream. He leapt to his feet and dashed towards Cameron's bedroom. He burst in and found her sitting up, clutching the quilt to her knees and shaking, screaming intermittently. Foreman went to her quickly and wrapped his arms around her tightly, whispering "It's ok, you're safe."

She stopped rocking and then turned and looked at him as though she had just realized he was there. "F-f-foreman?" she said.

Foreman gasped. "Cameron! It's me! It's ok!"

"Uh…uh…Foreman? Where am I? God, I had the worst dream, I … I can't remember it, I just heard this scream, and oh god, I feel sick. Where am I?" She looked at him closer. "Why are you naked? Wait, why am I naked? What, what did we do? Oh God … Chase! What have I done?!"

She pulled away from him and Foreman moved off the bed, though he leaned in close to her to speak. "Cameron, we're in a dreamstate right now. We're both in Hades and you were subjected to something terrible, which, well, put you in a state of shock. I took you to this beach-front condo to take care of you until you got over the trauma. We're naked because, well, we've been naked since we died."

Cameron looked at him as if he was insane. "What the hell are you talking about? Dead? Hades? Do I look dead to you?" She stood up on the other side of the bed, pulling the quilt over her body. "Is this some kind of sick joke? What's the matter with you?!"

Foreman gapped at her and let out a long, pained breath. "You don't remember do you? House sent us to Hades to well … it's probably not even safe here to mention it, but – "

"House! House?" Cameron looked perplexed and then began to look all over the room. Then something dawned on her. Her head dropped into her hands, the quilt falling away, and then she began to sob uncontrollably. "House, oh God, House. He … Foreman, I saw him, oh God," she began to quiver and collapsed to her knees. Her crying overtook her and she couldn't say anything else. Foreman moved around the bed and held her close again. She resisted at first and then buried her face in his shoulder.

"Shh … it's ok … you're safe," he crooned softly to her.

"House, oh House, over and over, they, they, House."

"What you saw isn't real. It was part of Tartarus. It was a dream you were experiencing."

"I couldn't save him, I couldn't save him, I couldn't save him," she whimpered.

"He's safe Cameron. He's still back on Earth, probably torturing Wilson and Cuddy without us around."

She looked up at him. "We're in hell. We're really in hell. God, I stopped believing, but this is it. It's real." Her wide eyes glistened with moisture and tears continued to streak down her cheeks.

Foreman brushed them away, along with some grains of sand. He nodded grimly. "We're in hell. But we're going to get out. We're only supposed to be here temporarily and then we're going to the fields of Asphodel. First we have to make sure you're ok and then we have to find Chase and get him out of whatever it is he's in."

Cameron pulled Foreman closer to her, her slim body trembling ever so much. "If they did this to me, I can't think of what they'll do to Chase. I'm so scared Foreman."

Foreman nodded. "I know. But we'll save him Cameron. Chase is going to be fine."

Cameron returned to crying, and Foreman held her for a long, long time, listening to her anguished sobs, and wishing he'd gotten to her sooner. Finally her sobs died out and he felt her become heavy against him. She had fallen asleep again, and with expert care Foreman lifted her and placed her back into the bed.

"Foreman," she mumbled softly when he let her go.

"Yes, Cameron?"

"Don't go," she whispered, half asleep. "You make me safe." Her hands reached up and grabbed his arms and she tugged weakly at him.

"I'll keep you safe," he whispered back, and slid into bed. She curled against him, laying her head against his chest and he pulled the quilt over them. He watched her for a time, her head still on his chest. He began to breathe, forcing himself back into that mortal habit, and her head rose and fell. He kept his left arm around her, hand resting on her pale shoulder. The sensation of her sleeping body close to his, the sight of her dozing white features contrasting against his dark skin, it all made him think back to quieter times and the many women he had been with. He bit into his lip, not wishing to conjure up those feelings, not here, not with Cameron, not this moment, but thankfully, he was able to direct those feelings to the peace he felt after a long night with a beautiful woman he cared for, and the fatigue in his body that went with it, and managed to will himself to sleep.


End file.
